Polaroids
by aesthesia
Summary: A collection of memories from the lives of certain five Blade Children.
1. Beginnings

A/N - Consider these as taking place before the actions in Spiral: Suiri no Kizuna. Based on the manga, as well as on a few of the art book illustrations. Inspired by Virginia Woolf's 'The Waves'.

Fair warning, these 'memories' consist largely of vignettes and micro-fics which are narrated from the perspective of one of the five protagonists, and the narrator changes from one memory to another.

Pairings: Eyes/Kanone, Ryouko/Kousuke and one-sided Rio/Eyes and Rio/Kousuke hinted at.

Warnings: some swearing, implied sex and many appearances of the word 'blood'. It ends around the time Kanone turns into a Hunter, so no real spoilers.

Right. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Polaroids<strong>

1. Beginnings

"I think that the first time all five of us got together, a star died out somewhere in space and shattered its glitter on us, like confetti on the birthday of someone special or the embrace of a warm rain in the middle of July. That was when the supernova came; the ever-so-slight explosion I felt in my chest, brimming with what tasted suspiciously much like happiness, love. Hope.

"Looking back now, I think that what the five of us had at that time was beautiful. Beautiful the way a plane crash lights up the sky at midnight, but beautiful nonetheless."

* * *

><p>"The first bomb she ever made blew up nine seconds earlier than it should have done and got us covered head to toe in ash; she hit me once for laughing at her and then began wailing like it was the end of this fuckin' world! Yeah, she's got her pride."<p>

* * *

><p>"Maybe it doesn't come as a surprise, but Asazuki's favourite method of answering any question when he was a kid was sticking his tongue out at people. He would still be doing it today, if Ryouko hadn't had a say in it."<p>

* * *

><p>"I've never really understood just how Rutherford manages to do it. The others and I, and especially that blundering Kousuke, end up a total mess each time we fight, yet he ends up nearly <em>spotless<em>!... Well, alright, maybe only in comparison to us. After all, he's had his fair share of blood and dirt."

* * *

><p>"Ryouko would probably never admit it now, but she broke down crying when I defeated her in combat the first time we fought, on account that no one had ever done that before. She was quite a stubborn girl, didn't even want to hear about training and definitely not from me. 'Course, she didn't even want to hear about killing in the first place; she still doesn't."<p>

* * *

><p>"Kanone-kun is not ruthless; he's ruthlessly efficient, that's what people need to understand. He sees the world in colours that don't have a name yet, when all he wants is to escape the colour red, hide it in a drawer that will never be opened, somewhere at the back of his mind where not even his subconsciousness could stumble upon it; and it's useless, and it's futile, and he knows he won't be able to escape his own blood. It runs in the family, after all.<p>

"So he decides he might as well embrace it, tame that part of him to act upon command, and he prepares to fight. To be honest, I don't think we would had found a better mentor anywhere."

* * *

><p>and so it begins.<p> 


	2. Family

2. Family

"Even now, there are those rare moments when we do what we like; we run through the grass barefoot; we stand in the cascading rain and we jump into puddles; we walk the city streets at hours which are always too early or too late; basically, we let ourselves act like idiots. In any other moment, though, we do what no people of our age do; we shoot guns; we throw knives; we plant bombs; we kill people and we fight to survive. We can't lead a normal life, but there are those rare moments when we pretend that we can. There is a certain sadness to it, but in the end, if being normal would have meant never meeting Ryouko, Rio, Rutherford or Kanone, I say fuck normality."

* * *

><p>"Rio smiles and skips happily down the pavement, all lace and sunflowers and rosy cheeks, with ribbons trailing behind her like butterfliers. She runs up to me, places her hand in mine, and I can't help but be amazed once again at how small her soft hand is; how lissome; how tiny, like a newborn pup that has barely learnt how to stand on its own legs. And it feels as though I should protect her, take her somewhere safe, run away with her into a field of flowers; plant her there and watch her bloom like a snowdrop.<p>

"Rio dreams of melons. She dreams of spring mornings and gifts under a Christmas tree. She sometimes dreams about me, I think. Then she goes and plays with shrapnel, C-4 and nitroglycerine, dressed all in flowers and candy, and washes off the blood from her hands as if nothing ever happened. But, in spite of all this, I don't think I'll ever stop seeing her as a little child, as a loving friend to whom I would give all the melons and all the flowers in the world if she asked me to. And has she any idea, does she even suspect how happy it makes me to see her childlike face light up with joy?

"I guess I like thinking we have our innocent parts."

* * *

><p>"It's like dragging a kite through the water or planting flowers in the winter; it's like hugging your mother when she only wants to see you drenched in someone else's blood; it's like calling her by her name, because she thinks the word<em> 'mother'<em> makes her sound too old. And it's not even a fitting name- she's not the feminine singularity and she's definitely not an angel. She's the kind of woman who takes away her child's stuffed toy and replaces it with a knife, the kind who believes in evolution. The kind who thinks that _'no, this was not a failed experiment'_ and_ 'you'll be the best killing machine one day, you'll see'_ and_ 'there's no time for hugging and laughing now, there never is'_.

"It's like suddenly missing your mother after all these years, because you've just realized that somehow, in her own twisted way, she loved you more dearly than her own life."

* * *

><p>"I can't remember if I've ever wanted a sister when I was little, but laying sprawled on my stomach under the sheets well after midnight with a flashlight on while in the middle of an oh-so-<em>vital<em> girltalk with you makes me think I did. Which is rather funny, considering how jealous of you I was when we first met. To tell you the truth, I still am a bit jealous; you're everything I can't manage to be, you're sweet, cute, girly, loveable. Me? I just get all the girls and I don't even want that; but all these stupid feelings that I have for the only boy I love make me feel even worse; it's wrong in all ways possible and ethic weighs me down when I just want to run as free as a wild animal.

"But I know it's not much better for you, either, because no matter how hard you try, you'll forever be everyone's little sister, wide-eyed and pig-tailed, in spite of your age and knowledge. Neither Rutherford, nor Kousuke, nor Kanone dare say it, but you know it, you know it too well, don't you?

"The tragedy of a half-sister."

* * *

><p>"That one has always been Kanone's favourite. Shame it died, though, Kanone's gonna throw a fuckin' tantrum when he finds out. At times I wonder where he finds all of them, it's as if his entire house were a friggin' shelter for cats, the kind of cats that always get in your way when you're walking, the kind that wake you up with their meowling in the middle of the night, and, d'you know, it's quite disturbing to talk about guns and ammunition and plans of assault with those fluffy little shits always rolling this way and that and with Rio's occasional squeals of delight. But I don't mind, I guess."<p>

* * *

><p>"Eyes-kun has been playing Mozart all day again, which is just another way of saying <em>'today was a good day'<em>. Brahms is the smell of freshly roasted coffee on Sunday mornings and Chopin is the rain gliding down on windowpanes. Berlioz is short for _'those-Hunters-today-who-tried-to-kill-us-for-the-nth-time-were-exhausting-and-unexpected-yet-it-was-a-great-satisfaction-to-kill-them-instead'_, while Borodin is _'I-don't-even-know-why-I-woke-up-today'_. Liszt is when Eyes-kun is simply himself and Schubert is when the sun shines so badly, it hurts your vision. Mendelssohn tastes like melons on the front porch. Mussorgsky is made of late nights staring at the sky and Wagner is Eyes-kun thinking Kousuke-kun is an idiot.

"But, mostly, they're all just Eyes-kun talking to us. He says we're all in this together, and I think that's the only thing that matters."

* * *

><p>"It's silly, really, Kousuke is attracted to trouble like flies are attracted to honey. Or pigs to mud. Or is it that trouble is attracted to Kousuke like flies are attracted to honey? Well, supposing Kousuke was all honey, but I honestly doubt that one. Maybe it's that trouble is attracted to Kousuke like pigflies are attracted to mudhoney. Or maybe how chewing gum is attracted to sticking to your shoes. No, not chewing gum, that would be annoying and Kousuke is not really<em> that<em> annoying. It's just that he's the sound of a plate crashing in the kitchen in somebody else's house when all you wanted was to get an empty glass, and now everything's turned really awkward and you try to shake it off with a joke. He'll swear at my cats, he'll swear at the weather and he'll swear at any Hunter, he'll do stupid stuff and say stupid things, but I think that a life without ever having broken a plate is not really worth living, in the long run."

* * *

><p>"Tell me again about how you'd like to say that it gets better with time, but how, unlike me, you're not a very good liar. Tell me about how, maybe, if we laugh, we'll manage to stay alive, when you know very well that I never laugh. Tell me about how you think that I'm dead inside, but sadly not dead enough, and then take me in your arms. Don't tell me what colour the sky is or what season we are in; don't give a name to your feelings or to mine and don't tell me how you've never thought and never will think of me as your brother. Don't say it. Just keep silent, bite your tongue till you can taste the blood; just hold me in your arms and leave it at that; just be my something-to-believe-in."<p>

* * *

><p>"I remember well the first time we met. Two six-year olds standing in the street; rain was about to fall and she was trying to steal my lunch. That little thing, trying to steal <em>my<em> friggin' lunch! Can't imagine what she was thinking, but, honestly, she should have known better than trying to steal from another thief. And pity? What was I to pity? A pigtailed, runny-nosed brat who didn't seem much younger than me and who had just made the most shitty attempt at taking away my food?

"... In other words, yeah, we ended up sharing the small sandwich I'd nicked from the hot-dog stand and then we rushed together to find a decent awning that could shelter us from the storm."

* * *

><p>"We're a dusty, old postcard, tea-stained and tear-stained, the words all jumbled up and bleeding into one another until almost nothing is intelligible anymore. Ink stains, like blood stains, are unattractive and messy.<p>

"And yet, through all this confusion, I can still make out a phrase here and there, one handwriting or more, a word that spells _'friends'_ on a loop. The word_ 'family'_ springs into my eyes, though, and the image is too sharp, the sound is too odd, the taste is too bitter, why did Ryouko-chan write it here? There is no signature, but I know it's Ryouko-chan, it's always her; it's always her obsession, it's always her imprisonment.

"The fact is, we didn't grow up as siblings; we never thought of each other this way, none of us did- or, at the very least, we chose to say that we didn't; so why can't Ryouko-chan just let it go? Blood is the only thing that says we're brothers and sisters, and blood is as silent as a dead Hunter."


	3. Toys and games

3. Toys and Games

"There just isn't any limit to how twisted we can be, is there? You say it's not our fault and you say we'll overcome it and you say these people look more beautiful when they're gone and dead anyway, because then they can't hurt or kill children like us anymore, and it's just a game of hide and seek, it's just a game of tag; these are the only kind of games we've ever known and these guns, these knives, they're the only toys we've ever had, but don't you know, don't you know that it's exactly this which makes it feel like the nightmares I had when I was five?"

* * *

><p>"At times, I hear a white noise and go blind while I fight.<p>

"At times, I forget what my name is or even what I am doing.

"It never lasts more than a fraction of a second, but it's enough to make me not want to look in the fuckin' mirror for the entire day.

"They say a broken mirror brings seven years of bad luck. This mirror is still in one piece and I've_ always_ had bad luck, anyway.

"At times, I'm scared."

* * *

><p>"I've never liked playing hopschotch, really. I was never able to make it past the third square without tripping over and bruising my knees, you see, and that always reminded me of that summer day when I was six, tired, pathetic and helpless, my ribbons in the dirt, far behind me, and my hair being torn out by the Hunter who was dragging me along the road full of rocks. Then, when one of my kneecaps finally broke, that man - that monster - that mere<em> boy<em>, really, just stood there, laughing, a filthy hyena upon its prey, and everything went blank, like a movie cut midway and replaced with static.

"I can't remember what happened; I can't remember what I did. I suppose my nerves just snapped, because the Hunter ended up dead minutes later, vivid red streaming from his skull like watercolours, dismantled limbs like discarded toys mangled up in a messy pile. It was not a pretty sight."

* * *

><p>"This is bordering on boring.<p>

"You can't catch me, you can't catch me, I'm swifter than the air you breathe, baby, and you can't catch me. Aw, that's such a shame. One measly bang-bang and you're dead already? I don't mean to brag about it, but you are one inexperienced Hunter. Ah, I mean _'were'_.

"Sorry, but I'm waiting on a bigger kind of kill. Because it's actually pretty simple as a concept: kill or get killed; there is no way in between because there is neither justice nor good cause here; there is only darkness, fear and despair."

* * *

><p>"I don't want to talk about it - I don't like talking about it; fuck it, I don't even like<em> thinking<em> about it. But the problem is that it's not something that we can avoid, is it? We can't make any choices; we've had this stupid _Fate_ thing being thrusted into our arms without being given any right to decide for ourselves, and still they're going after us as if we were some freakin' monsters! They're afraid of the day when our trigger will just set off and we'll start murdering people indiscriminately, but, honestly? I'm not even completely sure we would've ended up like this if they hadn't been hunting us like animals for as long as we can remember.

"But don't worry. I won't let them do us any harm. I won't let myself be killed that easily and I won't let them hurt you or any of the others."

* * *

><p>"I'm running again. I'm running. I'm running away from it all; if only for as long as it takes me to circle the entire neighbourhood three times and to stop for the usual chat with the newspaper boy. He told me yesterday that the thought of tomorrow makes him stop thinking. He told me today that I have a beautiful nose. I told him yesterday that the thought of today makes me stop breathing and I told him today that since I didn't inherit my nose from my mother, it can only be from the other party whom I refuse to call<em> 'father'<em>; I told him today that I have a brother that makes me go weak in the knees; I told him today that blood relationships in my family are pretty much fucked up and so I keep on running. And running. But no matter how much I run, it's still there and I can't escape it."

* * *

><p>"Training rarely ended well whenever Ryouko-chan was around. Of course, Kanone-kun did nothing to make the situation better; he would say that she needed to go through this, she<em> had<em> to go through this, but just the sight of bunnies being targeted, the sight of bunnies struggling desperately, the sight of dead bunnies in our hands would send her on the first train to hysteria.

"I guess the problem was her upbringing. In the years we had spent fighting for our lives, Ryouko-chan's mother had been reading her daughter fairytales.

"Ryouko-chan's mother wouldn't let her daughter travel to England alone;

"Ryouko-chan's mother didn't let her daughter talk to strangers;

"Ryouko-chan's mother thought her daughter had a bright future in athletics;

"Ryouko-chan's mother really knew absolutely nothing and kept her daughter in a silk cocoon.

"Ryouko-chan's mother is no more, but the dead bunnies are still there."

* * *

><p>"It's time. She glances my way and I know she's ready; she'll be able to carry out the plan.<p>

"She grabs the rifle that's almost twice as big as her and nods my way, but her serious and grim expression seems out of place, a stranger to her childish eyes and pigtails. I know she's not really a child anymore, but, if possible, I'd rather not have her do this; if possible, I'd rather not have Rio, nor Eyes, nor Kousuke, nor Ryouko ever do this again, because it pains me, it pains me to see their faces smeared with blood, it pains me to look in the mirror and see my own face smeared with blood. But it's not possible,

and she knows it,

and she has to do it."

* * *

><p>"It's whenever Kanone is practising hitting the target, be it by shooting or by throwing his knives, that the absurdity of it all hits me.<p>

"But it's the ruthless expression on his face and the oh-god-it-hurts in my ribcage that really bring me down."

* * *

><p>"Eyes-kun composes a murder the way he would a piano piece, all parts carefully orchestrated, ever so elegantly, ever so calmly. It's almost similar to watching him play in one of his concerts, only this time round we all play our roles as instruments, and the music we create with our guns and bombs and knives is nowhere near as pleasant. But that's just the thing, Eyes-kun doesn't simply create pleasant music; he creates beauty- he's a silver Midas and everything he touches turns to beauty, even if that means killing a person, or two, or more."<p>

* * *

><p>"And it's in the middle of fights such as this when, surrounded by Hunters, guns and knives at the ready, I sense you right next to me, and for a split second there's only the smell of blood, gunpowder and sweat, for a split second there's only the notion of your tense body so close to mine, silver hair dishevelled and lips cracked open, and I don't know if it's insanity or something else that awakens in me; I can be brutal if I wanted to, you know. I can be violent. I can be cruel. For one split second, I want nothing more than to tie you up, make you scream, hold you down right here in this mess made from blood, gunpowder and sweat, and hurt you. The worst part is I'm almost certain you'd enjoy it.<p>

"But then the moment passes and the thought is gone, so in the end it's nothing more than just more blood, more gunpowder and more sweat, dead Hunters all around us and your soft hand in mine when we're done."

* * *

><p>"In fact, we're not alone. Maybe that's what makes it even sadder. Little children with aching ribs and dreams crushed before we're even born. I suppose that's why Kousuke acts the way he does, comforting a dying child as he would a long lost friend. I can try to look away, but I can't block out the sound, and the shot rings as clearly as if it had been aimed at my own skull; the sight of blood makes me nauseous, like carnival rides on a stomach that's too empty or too full.<p>

"_At least it put him out of his suffering quickly_, Kousuke says, still clutching the gun, but the kid wasn't a single year older or younger than us, and all this blood, oh god, all this blood, it's still running through half of our veins and I can feel the fear and the hate cracking at the seams and all I can think of is that I just want you to take me home.

"Please, please, take me home."


	4. Love

4. Love

"We're eight years old and playing in the garden and it's only an accident, only an accident when the wind blows by and spreads about your sheet music, only an accident when I come tumbling down trying to catch them; it's only an accident and you lie there with your eyes open wide in surprise, your face is too close, your panicked breath lingers on my lips, and it's the first time I completely realize just how well your name fits. We can kill a person in five different ways without even using weapons, but this is different, this is new, this is something no one's ever taught us. It's only an accident and we don't even know what we're doing and your mother calls you to come home before we are able to understand anything.

"Now we're fifteen years old and we know full well what we're doing and it's never an accident anymore."

* * *

><p>"Occasionally, I think about the life we'll never have; how we'll never own a small house with cherry trees in the garden; how we'll never have a clumsy, yet loving dog that barks when you arrive home, while I'm cooking in the kitchen with children playing around me; how I'll never spend an entire morning polishing my award for winning the Marathon, while you wash our car outside in the sunlight; how our life will never come even close to the one imagined by cereal advertisments.<p>

"And I can't even hold your hand without feeling remorse."

* * *

><p>"Eyes-kun steals hearts from people the way a fire steals lives from moths: unknowingly, unconsciously, yet irresistibly; and all the moths burn their wings.<p>

"I know I'm just one more moth about to get burnt, but I don't think I'll ever stop hoping."

* * *

><p>"It's lips meeting lips and skin meeting skin, half-closed eyelids flickering like fireflies and hearts trembling as if on the edge of a cliff; it's fast-paced breathing, ribcages and hip bones colliding in the night like a car crash; it's stifled moans and earthquakes sweet, it's Kanone's hands and mouth finding their way down my body, burning flesh and burning bones; this is perfection at its best.<p>

"And then it's waking up in the morning in Kanone's arms all over again; it's the warmth of his chest against my shoulder blades and the caress of his breathing against the back of my neck; it's soft collarbone kisses and fingers running through my hair like rivers, it's his hand in mine and his eyes of liquid gold that look as though all the sunlight in the world has decided to rest for a moment there, and 'perfection' can't even begin to describe it."

* * *

><p>"Your eyes always get even bluer when you're sad, the way the sky darkens when it's about to rain. But, as your eyelashes shield you from my gaze again, I know full well that this rain will never come, and how can I even ask for rain, when this drought of blue is the only landscape you've ever shown me? Your eyes look away and I'm left here as an ersatz mourner of things you never talk about, left here with tears that shouldn't be mine scalding my eyes, and the only thing I can do is hold you in my arms so tightly, until I can't distinguish your heartbeats from mine. My tears form an ocean in your hair.<p>

"This will suffice, you say."

* * *

><p>"Her lips are soft and quivering, yet her eyes sparkle with anger when I pull away; she looks best when she's angry, this beautiful catastrophe, this wild natural disaster. Then she hits me and runs outside in the pouring october rain, crying, with nothing but a white shirt and her jeans on, and what else can I do but run after her with a jacket in one hand and with bitter feelings of resentment in my heart?"<p>

* * *

><p>"Rio gazes with so much ardor, that the air in the room is alit with fire and it hurts to even look. She thinks of moths, then she thinks of butterflies, and then she thinks she <em>likes<em> butterflies. Specifically, the butterflies in her stomach. They flutter about and make her all giddy, and she thinks she likes the feeling.

"Truth be told, Rio is not actually_ in love_, but rather, in love with _being in love_. She's in love with the butterflies that dance inside her, sickeningly sweet and sticky, looking for affection the way Kanone's cats do. She loves boys the way a sunflower loves the sun, turning towards it all throughout the day, yet staying in the same spot; the way red autumn leaves love the ground, looking from afar while perched up in their trees, then falling down in a twirl only to be blown away by the wind. There's this fine line between admiration, friendship, love and desire, but a Blade Child has to fail somewhere.

"Rutherford and Kousuke both act as if they don't notice, anyway; they don't have eyes for seemingly-little girls, and, at any rate, I'd probably end up hitting Kousuke even more if he did, for reasons much too selfish to admit."

* * *

><p>"But by the time we'll be washing the blood off our fingers, Ryouko will be cursing and blaming me for Asazuki's actions, going 'ohGodIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou' again and sending me to hell three times in a row. I wonder if it makes any longer a difference if more sins add up. She still refuses to kill and resorts only to harming those who hunt us, but she can't honestly expect Asazuki to do the same.<p>

"Sometimes, Ryouko wishes she had a frying pan permanently attached to her arm so that she could knock what she calls_ 'sense'_ into Kousuke more easily; sometimes, she wishes she could just crack open his head and rearrange what's inside. Most of the times, though, she just wishes she could run away with him and she hates herself for it. She hates and hates and hates, and then she loves again, radiating like a comet."

* * *

><p>"I've always liked the way snow tasted; when I was a little kid, I used to take handfuls of snow and roll them into balls, then I'd pretend that they were apricots and I'd bite right into them. Eyes would always grimace and say that I shouldn't do that because snow is dirty, but I would always reply that something so beautiful, so soft and so white could never be dirty.<p>

"I sometimes still eat snow-apricots; they're mostly the same, but the innocence seems to have lost itself somewhere along the way, and the coldness hurts worse than a red hot iron."


	5. Endings

5. Endings

and so it ends.

* * *

><p>"How dares he come here and infect our haven with his lies, how dares he come thinking of himself so mighty, with that stupid smug smile on his face and these words of acid in his mouth, how dares he?<p>

(and I mustn't and I mustn't and I can't and I)

"How dares he give us false hope and false security when we've been fighting our entire lives knowing that such things don't exist? We're a plague to society, we're a disease, we're a threat, how could there ever be any hope for us?

(can't and I won't and I mustn't and I)

"How dares he, when for so long we've been building this, _I_'ve been building this, _I_'ve been making them strong, only to have it all destroyed, only to have _them_ all destroyed because of his lies?

(can't and I can't, but I could, but I mustn't, but I could)

"There is no hope, there never was, it was just us for ourselves and they should've seen it, they should've known it by now, it was us, it was only ever _us_, and now they'll just end up broken like some unwanted toys, and everything I did, everything _we_ did won't have ever mattered, everything the five of us ever shared and had together will be torn to pieces, _he_'s tearing it to pieces, and Eyes, _Eyes_, _my Eyes_, he can't possibly believe this, he can't possibly hope-

(but he does and he does and he does)

"What has he done to you, what has he made you believe in? _I_ was the one you should have believed in, it was supposed to be me and only me, how could he have changed you so much, where is my Eyes, where are the others, where have they gone, why have they gone?

(and I could and I must, but I won't, but I)

"But I can't let it happen, I can't let them be destroyed, I can't let them suffer at the hands of those Hunters. And I know what I have to do.

(_can_ and I _must_ and I _will_.)

"If they are to be broken, then I will be the one to do it."

* * *

><p>"It was a cold winter morning when I found Rio sleeping in the snow after having made snow angels all night. She looked so serene with her small arms resting in the wing-shaped spaces she'd created and her ribbons forming an almost perfect halo around her head, but her lips were icy blue and she was shivering. When I woke her up, she threw her freezing arms around my neck and said she had never been as happy as she had been the night before; she said that she thought it would all turn out alright in the end; she said that we would be saved, somehow, because this man, this <em>god<em> that Kiyotaka Narumi is came and told her so, and she knew it in her heart that it was true, it had to be true. Then she began coughing uncontrollably because she'd come down with pneumonia.

"I think it was one of the saddest moments of my entire fuckin' life."

* * *

><p>"Now I'm waiting in the same old bus station while the rain is pouring all around me and I can almost see you in the back of my mind, rushing past on your bicycle, holding your jacket with one hand on top of your head and still getting soaked to the bones because that's just who you are, and I want to run after you, I want to run after you so badly. But I'm tired of this endless running towards and away from you. I'm afraid that if I try just one more time, I'll lose your track completely. Or maybe you'll lose mine completely.<p>

"I'm afraid of so many things. Everything's turned out so wrong, and if I have a choice, then I chose not to kill.

"So now I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.

"I was the first to leave."

* * *

><p>"Contrary to most expectations, I don't like sunsets; there's too much death and darkness around our lives as it is, and I'm not desperate for yet another reason to be depressed.<p>

"Sunrises are a different story, however. If I could, I would watch the sun rise over and over again, I would watch the way the sunlight kisses the earth so tenderly every morning, the way two old lovers greet each other after a long night of being separated. And, even in the winter, the sunshine feels so warm against my skin, bearing the scent of every hope I've ever had and every miracle and salvation I've ever waited for.

"So when you leave with the sunrise, it feels as though the sun itself has died and will never shine again. Breathing comes as painful as the touch of cold knives in mid-December and I just stand there, choking on everything you don't believe in, thinking_ this can't be real, good God, this can't be real, it can't be real_, when deep inside I've known for quite some time that this would happen. You say you love me the way a knife loves flesh and bone, but I can't even hear anymore. You plead with me to change my mind and come with you, but we both know that I won't. You yell at me to at least cry or show even the tiniest bit of emotion, but the only thing I can feel right now are your tears burning their way as they slide down my face and your hands around my throat. The touch of your lips is bitter and freezing and tastes like blood.

"And, just like that, you leave."

* * *

><p>"The last time all five of us got together? I can't even remember when that was. I only remember that something really did die out and shatter, but it wasn't the glitter of any star, because I had already understood by then that the stars above hated us, they hated our very existence.<p>

"Ryouko-chan left in tears and denial, wanting to pretend that nothing had ever happened and that she still had a bright future in athletics ahead of her. Kousuke-kun simply lost interest in everything and Eyes-kun began going away on concerts more and more frequently. By the time he called me on Christmas day to tell me Kanone-kun had left, I had already packed all of my things and was waiting for Kiyotaka-sama to arrive with his car; waiting for hope itself to arrive and tell me it wasn't all ruined.

"I don't know where this leaves us. I don't know where we're supposed to go from now on. Eyes-kun did mention at the end of his phonecall that he was planning to move back to Japan and that Kousuke-kun and myself were welcome there. He didn't mention it, but I know he was thinking the same thing as I did: maybe, just maybe, he could talk Kanone-kun out of this madness and make him see the light. Isn't it odd how, just when we were supposed to be at our happiest moment, everything got turned upside down?

"Still, I remember what it felt like to belong, to have a family. It can't really be over, I think. Not as long as we have each other, even if that means it will only be Kousuke-kun, Eyes-kun and myself.

"A car honks outside. Hope has finally arrived."


End file.
